Responsible Teenager
by hhfanx2
Summary: H/Hr. Oneshot. Warning: This is my ANTIsmut fic. A-n-t-i. Don't flame if you like smut - just don't read it. I actually think this story's kinda cute. But I'm biased. Enjoy.


Responsible Teenager

Disclaimer: Well, I certainly don't own our hero Mr. Potter, our heroine Miss Granger, or anyone else I may throw into this fic. They're Ms. J.K. Rowling's.

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Hermione's POV. H/Hr existing; they may both be OOC...maybe; they're definitely older than 5th year, and maybe even 6th year. Oh, let's make 'em 7th year...how about Head Boy and Girl. This is my antismut fic. I typed it up simply because I was in an antismut mood (like always). In retrospect, I can safely say that this fic pretty much has no real plot. Oh well. Anyway, I'm kindly warning you: if you do not appreciate anti/nonsmut fics, please turn away before you read this and decide to flame me. Thanks!

...

I heard a grunt - or was it a spoken word? - and turned around. 

Big mistake.

"What're _you_ looking at?" she growled, slowly making her way over to the table where I was standing. 

Uh oh. Millicent Bulstrode was a hulking creature, larger than both Harry and Ron, and probably even both boys combined. She was just another one of those Slytherins I could live without. I gulped, remembering the second-year incident during which I learned that headlocks are quite painful. Now, what she was doing in the library was beyond me.

"Well? What're you staring at, you filthy know-it-all mudblood?" The beast continued approaching me, and if looks could kill, Millicent Bulstrode's looks would be squashing me like a bug.

"A repugnant brute," I said simply. What? I was being honest.

It stopped in front of me, breathing heavily and emitting a nasty odour. It was glaring at me with such abhorrence that, coupled with its dangerous proximity and the memory of that second-year headlock, I was petrified. And, though I was Head Girl, I was reduced to the equivalent of a defenseless first-year. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't move, afraid that any attempt to escape would compel it to main me, kill me, or maybe even both.

And, like any well-trained beast, this one could smell fear. In a second, it had whirled me around, thrown me toward the corner of the table, and pinned me down forcefully. I think I managed a small "ow", but I had more important things to worry about than my verbal expressions of pain. 

One such thing was the table corner digging itself into my stomach. As I grimaced, my attacker said gruffly, "Don't ever use such big words on me, mudblood, or you'll pay." And after shoving me once more into that table corner which had probably left a permanent imprint in my stomach, Millicent Bulstrode staggered off.

Gingerly lifting myself from the corner, I stole a look at my stomach. Sure enough, a bruise was already forming, the broken blood vessels screaming back at me, and it looked like it'd be there for days. Biting down on my lip, I sarcastically thought to myself, Only one bruise after facing the beast. Not bad at all...

Regardless, one bruise was enough for me to take a whole load of points from Slytherin. 100 sounded just about right, I thought, smirking. Maybe I'd even get the beast punished with detention. Or suspension...

Ah, the joys of being Head Girl.

...

"Hey, Mione," he said softly. He had come into our Head Boy and Girl's common room so quietly that I hadn't even noticed.

I smiled as I looked up from my work. Harry had taken a seat on the chair beside mine, and was now awfully interested in my hair, for he was playing with a strand and staring at me with a wide grin. "Hi, Harry. What brings you here? Weren't you off somewhere with Ron? You didn't ditch your best friend, did you?"

"I know, I'm a bad best friend. But I missed my girlfriend," Harry said, now taking my hand in his. He looked at me with that endearing puppy dog look of his. 

I couldn't help but smile. Leaning over and giving him a light kiss, I said, "I missed you, too."

"So, what've you been up to this Saturday? Lots of work from those extra courses?"

My mind flashed back to my encounter with Bulstrode earlier today. "Oh, not much happening. Yeah, just work, work, work. But," I said, smiling at him, "I promise I'll come with you and Ron to Hogsmeade tomorrow. No work tomorrow."

"No work tomorrow?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

"No work tomorrow," I repeated, nodding.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"You're positive?"

"_Yes_."

And, without warning, Harry kissed me sweetly. I don't know why - Harry's kissed me a million times - but I found myself smiling stupidly. I felt so goofy.

"Mione?"

"Hmm?"

"You're smiling stupidly again." He was laughing, clearly amused. Before I could protest, he said, "But you look very cute." I closed my eyes as his hand softly grazed my cheek.

I felt so happy. Harry was so wonderful to me. Ron was the greatest best friend. School was easy. Everything was perfect.

Well, except for that nasty, painful bruise on my stomach.

Yeah. Except that.

"Mione?" Harry had, during my brief reverie, snuck his way onto the couch seat beside me.

"Hmm?"

He motioned to his lap, smiling. I took the hint, and climbed into his lap. I was always thankful that I didn't weigh much, or else Harry would _never _hold me in his lap. As I leaned back onto his chest, and put my face near his cheek, Harry wrapped his arms around my stomach and hugged me close.

Too close.

I sucked in my breath sharply and flinched dramatically; I couldn't help myself, for that bruise was too painful. 

Harry immediately removed his arms from around me, and said, "Mione? Are you ok? I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"No, no, it wasn't you, Harry..." Tears had collected in my eyes from the pain, so I turned away from him. I didn't want Harry to worry, nor overreact.

Harry brought his hand up and touched my chin, turning my head to look at him. When he saw my eyes glistening with tears, his face paled slightly his eyes widened, and he swallowed. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" 

I swiped at my eyes, and shook my head, 'no'.

He gazed at me incredulously, but his green eyes were full of concern. "It's ok, you know you can tell me."

"Nothing...nothing's wrong, Harry..." I said unconvincingly, my voice wavering. I felt guilty lying to Harry, but I knew that he'd only worry unnecessarily about a bruise that would soon fade away.

"What about your stomach? Did someone hurt you? What happened?"

I shook my head once again. "Nothing. I'm fine, Harry. Don't worry."

"I know you're hurt, Mione, I saw how you winced just now. Be a good girl and tell me where it hurts..." he coaxed, putting a hand on my arm.

"_Nowhere_. Nothing hurts, Harry. I didn't wince, and I'm ok. Why won't you believe that I'm _not _hurt?" I said, perhaps sounding firmer or more irritated than I had intended to.

Harry's hand abruptly dropped from my arm and he lowered his head. "Sorry," he said quietly, obviously hurt. "I just, um, I just wanted to help."

I immediately felt terrible for being so mean to Harry. I whispered his name, causing him to look up. Suddenly at a loss for words, I found myself stammering, "I...uh, I...um, it's a, um...bruise..."

Then I lifted up my sweater, just enough to expose my stomach to Harry - and most pertinently, its bruise. 

At that moment, the connotations and possible consequences of such an action had not occurred to me. Perhaps it had been because I felt so guilty for lying to Harry, that I became flustered when it came time for me to explain to him what had happened. Or, it could've been due to the fact that I had no clue whether to start my explanation of my bruise, or to apologize to Harry first. Regardless, I had ended up showing my bruise by baring my stomach.

But Harry didn't see any of it, because it appeared as though he had closed his eyes the second he saw me reach for my sweater. It took me a moment, my stomach still revealed, to figure out why Harry's eyes were tightly shut. But then everything clicked. 

He didn't want to violate my privacy in any way! 

At this very instant, I was ecstatic. I loved Harry so much I could've smothered him with kisses. And, gingerly throwing my arms around his neck, I did. When he opened his eyes, most probably out of confusion, I pulled away and gazed at him, utterly overwhelmed by my love for him and his respect for me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Harry! Thank you for respecting me! You're so incredibly wonderful!" I exclaimed, beaming at him.

"I...oh Mione, I'd never want to take advantage of you in that way. Your body belongs to you, and I will never violate you in any way whatsoever. Besides, we're definitely not ready for anything that, er, _intimate_ in nature. Maybe in the future, but certainly not now, not when we're totally unprepared for it," Harry said, blushing as he looked at me sheepishly.

The tears of happiness slipped down my cheeks as I smiled blissfully. "Oh Harry, I love you so much, do you know that? You're so perfect, and I love you, I love you, I love you! I'm so lucky to have you!" And I kissed him again as the colour crept into his cheeks from what I had said.

He broke off our kiss a while later, and whispered, "I love you too, Mione. I love you so much, with all my heart. And I thank the stars every night for making me the one that you love." He wiped my tears, and leaned forward to kiss me again, holding me delicately so as to not further aggravate my bruised stomach. 

Inside, I was jumping for joy. What in the world had I done right to have such a perfect boyfriend like Harry?

...

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Well, there you go. Antismut. But I didn't say it would be antifluff. No plot, no continuity, no substance. Sorry, the ending wasn't a tad_ bit more clever like my endings normally are, but my point here was to voice my stance against smut. So, thank you for reading. I hope I haven't angered anyone. If I have, well, don't flame. Just go read a H/Hr fic that's rated R. So, in conclusion, teenagers (such as the 17-year-old Head Boy and Girl in this story) should not be, um, doing you know what, in my opinion. Thank you!_


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